


When Fate Comes Knocking

by roxyeisen



Series: What Happens Next [5]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 13:18:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14238141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyeisen/pseuds/roxyeisen
Summary: William gets an eyeful the next morning when passing by his parents' room. Subsequently, he gives Mulder a little window into his mother's fears about their relationship. But fate has just about caught up with William.





	When Fate Comes Knocking

The visions exhaust me. I sleep like the dead on that couch. I wake up later than I intended in the morning.

I don’t hear anyone up, so I try to take the stairs to the bathroom quietly. The old stairs creak like they’re taunting me.

I take care of business and then prepare to sneak downstairs before they wake up. I’m just creeping past their open door when I hear my mom giggle.

I didn’t know moms giggled like that.

Mulder says something I can’t hear, and I look over just in time to see them in bed, kissing. Not like an old person good morning kiss, like real kissing. Like getting down to business kissing. 

“Ah, come on,” I complain, standing in their doorway. “I can never unsee that.”

My mother gasps as if she’s surprised, and her face turns red. Mulder just props his head on his arm and gives me this even stare. I guess he doesn’t want me in his mind, but he doesn’t care if I’m standing in the doorway.

“That’s what doors are for,” I say. 

“Sorry, William,” my mother says, but she’s smiling. And I notice she hasn’t let go of his t-shirt. 

I feel really awkward. I don’t really want to be downstairs while my so-called parents are getting it on. It’s an old house. The walls are thin. “So, uh, can I borrow your car? I can get breakfast.”

Mulder reaches over to the bedside stand and grabs his keys, which he tosses to me. 

“Great. Be back in twenty,” I say, avoiding eye contact.

I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear Mulder call after me. “That’ll be plenty of time.”

“Mulder!” my mother protests, but she’s laughing. I can’t help my smile as I leave the house, pulling on one of Mulder’s old jackets.

What? My parents are cute. 

I give them a solid hour before I return. Part of me thinks I should take Mulder’s car and get out of town, especially when I think I see a guy tailing me in town. I lose him at a stoplight and drive around until I’m sure I’m not being followed before I go home.

I keep telling myself I’m going to leave, and I am. But I’m not ready yet. I have more questions that need answers. So I go back to the house. I’m relieved to find my mother up and engaged in some sort of massive clean-up protocol. She’s sitting in the middle of the living room floor with boxes and papers and books all around her.

Mulder’s sitting at his desk again, sipping coffee. He doesn’t look quite as content as he did when they were in bed together. I smirk and toss him his keys. I put the bagels on the table and stuff one of them in my mouth. “What are you doing?”

“I am trying to clean up this house that your father has been trashing since I moved out four years ago. If we are going to raise a family here, the mess is going to have to be re-contained in the office like it was before I left.”

I get the feeling she’s talking more to him than me, so I sit on the couch and watch them. I don’t say anything, I just listen to what they are saying and what they aren’t.

She gives him a hard time about hoarding old paperwork and videotapes. She secretly worries about whether he liked it better when he had the house to himself.

He complains about her compulsive neatness. He silently wonders how he can keep her from ever leaving again. Maybe if he keeps things orderly, she’ll stay?

She suddenly goes pale and stands up quickly. She heads up the stairs as fast as she can. I give Mulder a questioning look, until I hear the sound of her retching in the bathroom.  
“She does that in the mornings,” he explains. 

“Oh, like morning sickness, right? Did she do that when she was pregnant with me?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”

I’m not sure what to make of that statement. But I can tell he doesn’t wish to elaborate, so I change the subject. “You know, you two should really talk more.”

“Why do you say that?” He shifts in his chair. He’s uncomfortable again.

“She worries a lot about what you think. She worries that you don’t want her here, that you’re not committed to your relationship, that you’ll fall off the deep end again and she’ll have to take care of two infants.”

“She thinks those things?” Mulder looks doubtful. But then pensive as his eyes travel up the stairs.

“She wants you to ask her to get married,” I say, though I’m not sure I should give that away. Am I betraying her by saying what she can’t say?

“I know.”

“You do? Then why don’t you ask her? She’s been wanting that for a long time.”

He doesn’t answer, but I can hear what he doesn’t say. What if she hates being married to me? What if I ruin everything? What if she’d be better off without me?

“Don’t you think at this point it’s safe to say she wants to be with you?” I point out the obvious. “She’s not going to change her mind.”

“She has before.”

“That was different. And she wasn’t really changing her mind. She was hoping you’d be desperate enough about getting her back that you’d pull yourself together and come after her.”

This hurts him. I can tell. He gets up and walks to the front window and stares out for a long time. Then he sighs.

“Sorry,” my mother says as she comes back down the stairs and returns to the mess. She sees Mulder by the window and gives me a look. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Mulder turns. “I’m ready for another stack.” He returns to his chair. She hands another stack of papers to Mulder. He feeds them to the shredder. 

“Are you okay?” he asks her uneasily. I shake my head. That’s not the right question.

“I’m fine,” she says. She’s not. She feels really sick and she’s worried about her pregnancy. She didn’t feel quite this bad with me, apparently. She’s sure she’s too old to have a healthy baby.

“Let me guess, William,” Mulder looks at me. “She’s not fine.”

I’m impressed. I guess he knows more than he’s saying.

“She’s always says she’s fine when she’s not,” he explains.

“I do not,” she argues as she passes him another stack.

But she does.

There’s a hard knock at the door. More like banging. I can tell by the sound of it and by the fact that my parents are scrambling for their guns that it’s bad news.


End file.
